


Probably The Meth

by flawlesslinetti



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Angst and Feels, Insomnia, M/M, if youre looking for a happy ending keep looking, michael regrets things, they both love each other, theyre all kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29745216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawlesslinetti/pseuds/flawlesslinetti
Summary: Michael can't sleep and it's not because of Trevor's snoring even though he keeps telling himself that.Or— Michael tries to confess his feelings but Trevor isn´t having any of that shit.
Relationships: Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	Probably The Meth

**Author's Note:**

> hi! 
> 
> this is my first fic on these two and the first one on ao3 in general (also the first one i wrote in like 7 years) but i ship these two disasters so much that i just had to write this. they both have such interesting personalities and storylines and their dialogues just make it so obvious that they're meant to be and ugh. 
> 
> i love how active and talented this fandom still is btw, y'all are amazing. 
> 
> anyways hope you like this!

Michael's eyes were closed, yet his mind was still wide awake. He and Trevor came back from a night out at the local Sandy Shores bar a few hours ago and he'd been trying to fall asleep ever since. But every time his consciousness started ebbing away, the heavy, drawn-out snores of the man lying next to him would jolt him right back to where he started; wondering how someone like Trevor could fall asleep so easily. 

Maybe it was the meth. Yeah, it was probably the meth. Or maybe it was the fact that somehow Trevor's life wasn't as fucked up as his own. 

Which was just _great_.

After all, Trevor didn't have to live with that suffocating feeling in his chest, the guilt of betraying his best friend who would've done and did anything for him. And every time Michael closed his eyes he saw Trevor and everything they've been through— everything he put Trevor through. Even worse, having to lie next to the man until this whole thing with that crazy Mexican and his kidnapped wife blew over. Lying so close that all it would take was a slight shift for their bodies to touch, just like the old days. But he couldn't. And it drove Michael crazy to the point where he couldn't sleep and he blamed Trevor's snoring for not being able to, but _that_ was the real reason.

Michael opened his eyes, trying to think of anything else. What were Amanda and the kids doing right now? Fuck, they were probably sleeping like everyone else. He didn't realize that Trevor's snoring had stopped until a raspy voice interrupted the silence.

"Mikey, you still up?" 

There was some shuffling at the other side of the bed but Michael didn't have the energy to turn around and look so he stayed still, hoping Trevor would think he was asleep.

"Let's go, M." Trevor hovered over the bed and pushed him lightly, just hard enough that he had to hold onto the bed frame so he didn't roll off the bed and touch the sticky floor.

When Michael asked where the fuck they were going, Trevor threw his jacket in his face in response, so Michael decided to follow in silence. Nothing they were about to do could be worse than his own intrusive thoughts, right? But then again this was Trevor so that wasn't entirely true. As they walked outside, Michael stopped for a second to enjoy the thick desert air pressed upon his skin. Unlike Trevor who had been out doing 'business', Michael hadn't been outside all day. It was way too hot here in Sandy Shores to do anything, let alone participate in whatever it was that Trevor would be out doing. 

The leather seat of the Bodhi— still hot from being exposed to the sun all day— almost made Michael complain as he slid into the car, but then decided against it to avoid starting an argument with Trevor for a change. They drove off into the night to wherever Trevor was taking him, Michael admiring the view while enjoying the fulfilling taste of nicotine. There was something calming about being surrounded by nothing with not a single soul to be spotted, something that never happened back in Los Santos. Yeah, Sandy Shores was bad, but it had its charms. Not that he would ever admit that to Trevor.

"Ain't gonna kill you, if that's what you're thinking about," Trevor said, breaking the silence.

The absurdity of the question had Michael turn his head towards its source instantly, raising an eyebrow. "I know."

Trevor cleared his throat. "You do?"

Michael watched as Trevor loosened his grip on the steering wheel, his face slightly more relaxed as if he was relieved to hear that his old friend didn't consider him dangerous. In a way, Michael understood what Trevor was worried about. He was Trevor Philips after all.

Trevor Philips, an insane Canadian with mommy issues and cannibalistic tendencies. Someone you should stay away from as far as possible, anyone who ever crossed paths with him would agree on that. Yeah, everyone who knew Trevor knew that you had to be careful around him because one day he might snap your neck just for the heck of it. Everyone except Michael, that is. Michael was different. Not once in all of those years when it was just the two of them was he afraid of Trevor. Not once did he question their friendship or the sincerity of it. Just once did he betray Trevor.

And everyone that ever heard of Trevor Philips would agree that betraying him meant having your dismembered body— which would be too mutilated to even be identified as human at first glance— found decomposing in a lake a few weeks later. Trevor knew this and hell, he probably loved it but Michael couldn't help but be offended. Trevor didn't think of him as just _anyone_ , right?

"Are you serious?" Michael scoffed. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. I ain't scared of you, T."

Trevor didn't say anything for the rest of the ride, but Michael knew he appreciated the reassurance. As Trevor pulled up into a dark, empty parking lot, the only source of light came from across the street with streetlights lighting up the giant sign in front of the building.

Michael was only able to vaguely read the letters as they were a little too far away, but he recognized the place instantly. This was the place they were going to rob in a few days. _Blaine County Savings Bank._

Michael tapped his fingers on his leg, heart pounding as he reached for his cigarettes in his pocket, lighting another one before taking his focus to Trevor. "Why are we here?" He asked, trying to sound calm. They weren't supposed to be here, what if anyone saw them?

"You couldn't sleep, sugartits, which means there's something on your precious little mind." Trevor explained as he reached into his jacket to pull out a bottle of cheap liquor, taking a swig before continuing, "You always were an anxious mess before a job, y'know? So what better way to deal with your concerns than _being_ at the exact spot where everything's gonna go down."

"So you're telling me you drove me here at 5 am to sit and stare at this building with me, because you're what- worried about my sleeping schedule?"

"No, jesus what do you take me for? I'ts because I care about you, Mikey boy. I'm gonna have some fun over at the beach while you worry about every minuscule thing that could but trust me on this- _won't_ go wrong."

Trevor cursed, almost tripping over himself while he jumped out of the car, still drunk off his ass from their night out. Michael wondered how he even managed to drive them there as he watched how the drunk bastard had to hold onto the side of the car to turn himself around, mumbling something incomprehensible before heading off to the beach.

Michael started thinking. He could stay there and go through the plan once more. Analyze the building, maybe think of a backup plan— who was he kidding, he already had at least 4. Maybe Trevor was right, he should deal with what's keeping him up at night. 

But how could he expect Trevor to understand his feelings when he himself wasn't even able to— or rather, wasn't able to accept them. He wanted to shoot himself in the face for it, for falling for something so untouchable. It was downright crazy and he knew it, but when faking death for 9 years wasn't even enough to push those feelings away for good, there was only one way left to go. 

_Goddamnit_. 

Michael licked his lips, swallowing dryly but unable to wet his parched throat. He ignored the knot in his stomach and his brain which begged him to turn back around and made his way to the beach where Trevor sat faced towards the edge of the water.

"Mhm, that was quick," Trevor said as he held out the bottle.

Michael stepped closer to reach towards it and couldn't help but to stare at Trevor's arm, eyes flickering to the tattoo on his shoulder. The permanent reminder of Michael's past mistakes. Whenever he apologized for it, Trevor would shrug it off like it was nothing and tell him that it was the only tattoo that mattered to him like he loved the tattoo or maybe— but this was just a hopeful thought— the _man_ , whose name now lived on his shoulder forever.

But Michael would be wasted and Trevor would be high whenever it came up, so it was probably just the meth talking. Yeah, probably the meth.

Michael gulped down on the cheap, surprisingly not-that-horrible drink to give him some courage before speaking up. "Look, I appreciate you bringing me here but this, the bank, it- it's not what keeps me up at night. I mean it used to be, but not anymore." 

Trevor was silent for a second before shooting up and turning to face Michael. "Then what is it? Ah, it's about your family again, ain't it? She's gone. When are you gonna accept that? You used to be so much fun to be around and now you're just a big pile of depression. You gotta learn how-"

"Fuck you, it ain't about them." Michael groaned and shook his head because clearly this was useless. He should've never brought it up. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and started walking back to the car. "Forget it."

What the hell was he thinking, that Trevor would listen instead of throwing the usual insults at him? He didn't work that way— they didn't work that way. Not anymore.

"Michael!"

He kept walking.

A shiver went down his spine as a firm hand gripped his shoulder, stopping him. Trevor's breath was warm against his ear as Trevor whispered, voice low and threatening, "Don't fucking walk away from this, Michael. Tell me what the fuck is going on."

Trevor twisted him around with ease, both of his hands on Michael's shoulders as their eyes met. Trevor's eyes were dark and intimidating like they always were, lingering on Michael's lips for just a second like they always would. "I'm _not_ gonna ask again."

"You're the fucking reason I can't sleep," Michael blurted out before giving it a second thought. 

Trevor loosened his grip a little. "What do you mean?" There was a slight change in Trevor's voice and expression and Michael was barely able to notice it, but he _did_. And in ways, he wished he didn't because now all he could think of was what they used to have. 

Michael had loved every minute– every last second of it. From the way Trevor would stare at him with those damn hungry eyes as he'd slowly crawl on top of him, to the way they were able to talk about anything so easily. _Anything_. Until he ruined it all and for what? So he could end up with an ex-wife and two kids that pitied him. 

Now all that remained were two lonely men waiting for some kind of miracle to fix everything and without that miracle they were just two lonely men who once belonged to each other, both knowing that things would never be the same. With one running away from the past and all of the mistakes that were made along the way and the other holding onto the past for dear life to remember what love felt like. But now that Trevor was looking at him like that, Michael knew that it was time to stop running. 

"What I mean is this," Michael said as he stepped closer and almost closed the gap between them. "I've been trying so hard to forget and ignore whatever this is or was or could've been and fuck, T. You know how good I normally am at that shit, but-"

"But what?" Trevor's jaw tensed up. His nails dug into Michael's shoulders.

There was a quick, hard pulse in Michael's throat and he wanted to yell. To tell Trevor that it wasn't fair, that he didn't understand what Michael went through at the time, and the only thing keeping him from doing just that were the sobs that escaped Trevor's mouth. Michael had seen him cry before of course, because what do you expect from an addict who's known to have some crazy emotional outbursts? Still, not once was Michael the reason for his crying – or at least not when he was around to see. But now he was only inches away and the air around him became too thick to swallow when the tears started sliding down Trevor's face. 

And the sight of that alone was enough for Michael to do what he'd been wanting to do ever since Trevor walked back into his life. He sank his head into Trevor's shoulder with his arms clasped around him, heartbeats colliding as their chests pressed together. Michael's eyes filled with tears when Trevor pulled him in closer and rested his head against Michael's. This was the side of Trevor no one ever got to see and maybe if people did, they wouldn't be so damn terrified because at the end of the day Trevor was just a broken, lonely boy with abusive parents, who needed to feel loved.

They stayed like that for a little while before Trevor's hands slid upwards and followed Michael's jawline to lift his head so that he could look him in the eyes. " _You_ don't get to cry either," He whispered, wiping away the tears on Michael's cheek with his warm but rough hands, and Michael couldn't help but lean into the touch. 

Trevor's breath hitched when Michael's lips smashed against his and the sound made Michael even hungrier. He needed this. He needed Trevor. The sensation of the bristles of Trevor's beard scratched against his soft, freshly shaved cheeks and it made Michael's knees so weak that the only thing keeping him from dissolving into a puddle were Trevor's hands cupping his face and pulling him impossibly closer. A groan escaped the back of his throat as Trevor's tongue slid over his bottom lip and found his and then just like that– with Trevor shoving him away so harshly that he almost fell over– the moment was shattered and so were Michael's hopes of things going back to the way they once were.

"And you _definitely_ don't get to have me." Trevor wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"Trevor," Michael breathed heavily.

"No." Trevor hissed. "Do you think I'm _that_ desperate? I have moved on Michael. I had no choice but to do so when you left me for that whore and ruined our future. I knew you were gone before you were even gone, but I fucking stayed because you promised me that we were gonna be together 'til the end of the line. I was torn between holding on to that and accepting the reality of you slipping from my fingertips, but then you left me with no other option. I moved on." 

Michael wasn't sure if those last words were meant for him or if Trevor was telling himself that but they were like a knife to the chest either way. Michael's feet were rooted to the ground, struggling to process what just happened. They were kissing and now he was being screamed at. Trevor's voice was so loud and roaring that Michael couldn't concentrate on what he was saying and those dark eyes that pierced right through him as if they were searching for something made it so much worse. After a few moments, Trevor groaned– as if he'd given up on trying to find the thing he was looking for in Michael– and started fumbling around in his pockets to look for his car keys, and only then Michael's brain started functioning again. 

"I'm sorry, T." 

"See Michael, that's the thing. I _know_ you're not. You're sorry that your fucked up little plan didn't work out the way you wanted it to, but you're not sorry about hurting my feelings. It probably never even crossed your mind that I _have_ feelings. You made your bed about ten years ago and you gotta lie on it and you've only got yourself to blame if you're unable to sleep on it. Maybe if your head wasn't so stuck up your own ass you would've realized I fucking love you when it still mattered."

Trevor got in his car before giving him one last look. "You could've had me, Mikey. Fucking remember that."

And just like that, he was gone. Now it was Michael's turn to feel that indescribable feeling in his chest of when the person you love the most slips away from you and there's nothing you can do and you realize that it's too late. 

And so he does remember. Just like he remembers that Trevor told him he loved him. _Loves_ him. Although that must've been the meth as well. Because who could _love_ this shitty older version of Michael Townley who only now realizes how egotistic he was and how bad he fucked up. Never even getting the chance to confess his feelings even though he was sure Trevor knew but didn't care or rather cared too much, but none of that mattered in the end because it was too late.

And _that_ keeps him up at night.

**Author's Note:**

> if you stayed til the end thank you so much 💕 feel free to leave a comment!


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